I feel like there's so much darkness in all of my books.
For what but eye and ear silence the mind With the minute particulars of mankind?
When You Are Old" WHEN you are old and grey and full of sleep, And nodding by the fire, take down this book, And slowly read, and dream of the soft look Your eyes had once, and of their shadows deep; How many loved your moments of glad grace, And loved your beauty with love false or true, But one man loved the pilgrim soul in you, And loved the sorrows of your changing face; And bending down beside the glowing bars, Murmur, a little sadly, how Love fled And paced upon the mountains overhead And hid his face amid a crowd of stars.
What man does not understand, he fears; and what he fears, he tends to destroy.
A daughter of a King of Ireland, heard A voice singing on a May Eve like this, And followed half awake and half asleep, Until she came into the Land of Faery, Where nobody gets old and godly and grave, Where nobody gets old and crafty and wise, Where nobody gets old and bitter of tongue. And she is still there, busied with a dance Deep in the dewy shadow of a wood, Or where stars walk upon a mountain-top.
There are no strangers here; Only friends you haven't yet met.
The Irishman sustains himself during brief periods of joy by the knowledge that tragedy is just around the corner.
Every time I see the sunshine in the bright blue sky, I cannot help but think how blessed I really am to see another day. There are so many who may have not woken up to see it but I have been blessed.
Working with amazing people, you continue to learn and develop yourself, as an actor and as a person.
I don't think anybody says to Coetzee or Dostoyevsky or Kafka, "Your characters aren't likeable. " It's not about your character winning a popularity contest. That's not the writer's job.
I feel like I could run for President. People often laugh, but if I set my mind to it, within the next 15 years I could be in the White House.